


what we are made of

by reflectionslie (fallsink)



Series: worlds apart (yet never too far) – reylo flashfic challenge [2]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, prompt - fear, slight angst, sorta canon au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2018-01-05
Packaged: 2019-02-28 18:01:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13276896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fallsink/pseuds/reflectionslie
Summary: he isn't a man of any faith





	what we are made of

the moon is unusually bright, but it doesn't stop the chaos in kylo's mind as he lies shirtless on the couch, with only a thin black blanket over his waist and legs. the middle pane of the window throws a shadow across his eyes while the rest of his face is soaked in moonlight, but he has no eyes for the scene that seems to make frost appear on his floor.

he thinks of the blood still on his hands, even though he’s cleaned it two days ago. he thinks of the state of the order now that he has defeated and risen above his master. and, with body shaking, he thinks of things he doesn’t allow himself to think during the day.

she appears without any warning, like a stray thought that just surfaces but somehow manages to link everything together. his body starts to shake again at the sight of her in a simple tank top and a long pants hanging loose, but now for a different reason. because he knows her and her soft brown hair that trembles unbound as it tumbles past exposed shoulders shows that recognition as well.

their eyes find each other’s like blue sky meeting nightfall, just like they always do, and his thoughts silence under her beam that spreads across her smooth features like daybreak.

and he tries a smile too, yet all he can say is, "you came."

"you asked" is the simple response. but rey’s smile, now suddenly shy, is far more eloquent.

he tries to cover his chuckle with a cough and says, "I was just... thinking…"

the last word trails off as she glides over and settles in beside him, her hip leaning slightly against his ribs. and somehow this touch winds him more than any attack he’s ever sustained.

he thinks it's unfair that she knows everything without him speaking, while he can't read past her chestnut-colored eyes, but he's also glad that she does, so that he doesn't have to give voice to the things he's afraid to know.

"we are made of the same stuff as the oceans, you know,” she murmurs. as she speaks, she reaches forward and slowly, unhurriedly, almost hesitantly, gently rests a hand against his cheek. her fingertips first, then slender digits, then palm, then all at once. “the same stuff as the stars, the air, the forests."

he is barely listening, already getting lost in her eyes and drunk on her voice, but nods anyway.

"we are the universe and the universe is us."

his breath hitches in his throat as the warm touch travels across his jawline. her soft touch a contrast to the stubble on his face, her elbow skimming his exposed stomach.

then her long fingers slip over his eyes and all is darkness except her lilting voice whispering,

"so why are you afraid of the dark?"

his breath catches at this and is suddenly ragged as he fights the suffocating sensation of thoughts, fears, everything crashing in on him. the blood starts racing, pulsing painfully in his throat and he’s drowning on land and even the darkness behind his eyelids starts to spin—

“breathe, ben.”

he feels this more than he hears it. he feels this on the dryness of his lips because she presses it briefly against the cracked skin, and is gone before he can even think to ask for more.

so he does.

after what seems to be an hour (or a minute, or even a month), his breaths slow to match hers in his ear.

“we are distilled sunlight, salt, moonshine, and comet-ashes, you know that?” these words are so quiet and barely formed on her lips that it could just be moondrops against windowpanes.

“yeah.”

“are you still afraid?”

he laughs at this, because he knows that she already knows the answer. but he indulges her by reaching up to take her hand so softly in his, slowly taking it down so his piercing eyes meet hers.

then he brings her palm to his lips and presses his reply back into her skin. "I'm not anymore."

he may not be a man of any faith, but she at least makes him believe in something.

**Author's Note:**

> yet another drabble as I get my shit together to something longer, pls bear with me  
> For the The RFFA The Last Jedi Flash Fiction Challenge - prompt: fear


End file.
